These are the days of the open hand They will not be the last Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers This the of the hungry man Whose place is in the past Hand in hand with ignorance and legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor And most of us are not sure If we have too much we’ll take our chances ‘Cause God stopped keeping score
I guess somewhere along the way He must have let us all out to play And turned his back all God’s children Crept out the back door And it's hard to love There's so much to hate Hanging onto hope When there is no hope to speak of And the wounded above Say it's much too late Oh maybe we should all be praying for time
This is the of the empty hand Oh you hold onto what you can And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
These are the days of the guilty man The television takes a stand And you find that what was over there Is over here So you scream from your door Say what's mine is mine and not yours I may have too much But I’ll take my chances cause God stopped keeping score And you’ll cling to the things they sold you Did cover your eyes when told you That he can't come back ‘Cause he has no children to come back for
And it's hard to love when there's so much to hate And hanging onto hope When there is no hope to speak of And the wounded skies above Say it's much, too late Mm, well maybe we should all be praying for time.